Portentous
by kasey07
Summary: If it was one thing I discovered about him, it was that he did not like to call my name but when he did, it was always Ginevra, not the silly nickname the rest of the world called me.


**Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.**

I did not like to sit still. I could not with adrenaline that drove me to find adventure in my small and protected world for I was naïve and I wanted answers to my insatiable questions. Often, I found trouble but on more than one occasion, trouble would find me. And I, the foolish girl that I was, would invite trouble to play.

Trouble found me in the form of a dark and foreboding man who never knew childhood for he had already been forced to grow up by then. In the beginning, he tempted me with his air of mystery and quicksilver glances thrown across the Great Hall that one else caught. Curiosity and fascination compelled me to seek him but he was already chasing after me with smirks and fleeting looks. Like a spark that became an eruption, we were fire so great that nothing good could be the outcome, it would destroy us and we both knew it. So I not only invited trouble to play, I let it ensnarl and consume me whole.

If it was one thing I discovered about him, it was that he did not like to call my name but when he did, it was always _Ginevra_, not the silly nickname the rest of the world called me. It was his claim to me. His given name seemed come bubbling up but it always became lodged in my throat so it was never uttered, but somehow it would hang between us along with the fact that we were each others irrevocable mistakes.

Silence echoed and rang, reverberating through the thin walls of the building; the only sound was the quiet whistle of our breathing filling the dark. I played with his fingers, measuring his long aristocratic ones with mine before slipping between them to form a tight clutch then I would begin my pointless game over again. I could almost hear his words, exasperation and asking what I was doing, that were never said aloud. I was content to lie in crook of his arm and pretend that time had briefly stopped for us. Soon, the faint rays of dawn slowly began to creep upon us and somewhere, an owl hooted its farewell to the night. He got up, dressed and left without a single word to me. Then I, stinging with his cold departure, would lie back onto the bed to absorb the fading warmth left by his presence. It was a routine so well rehearsed; we both knew it so well. He could not be discovered of his absence and I would return to my home and pretend that I had never left it. We were fighting on opposite sides of the war, risking our lives and everyone else we knew for stolen nights and empty mornings.

Perhaps it was nothing but a tryst for him and I was not worthy of anything else, but I knew it was love of some sort. He shattered my heart little by little every time and I would be left to piece the fragments into a rearranged mess for the next night. I swore that it would be my last time, but every time was my last time. He broke that promise just as easily as my heart. And so, I let it continue, passion and hatred mingling together to leave a bitter taste on my tongue.

I knew something was wrong months after but ignored it and I forgot about it for the time being. I was too caught up with fighting for my side, helping in any way that I could. War was not noble and romantic as the bards and poets had sung about, it was grisly and wearisome as the days would bleed into the next and the names of victims would no longer hold meaning. I couldn't save them and no one could save me. Most of my family was gone, I did not even blink when they told me my parents and most of my brothers had been mercilessly slaughtered during battle. I had become hardened and indifferent in the days that passed to keep the pain from searing me. So I mourned alongside my efforts to keep our numbers alive, an exhausting task that grew as the days went by. Every now and I then, I would be reminded of him though, through the littlest of things: a child with pale blonde hair, the grey of the overcast sky that was so much like his. I hadn't seen him since that last night yet everyday, I would be alert for a secret message he would send me. I had to remind myself not to expect anything for he could be dead but that eternal flicker of hope would weakly glow despite that.

It was the discovery that would lead me to final decision that changed my life. Standing in the derelict bathroom of a once-healing facility, I wiped my face with a cool towel before starring at myself in the cracked mirror. My skin was flushed and blotchy from having just thrown up my breakfast. Turning on the tap again, my mind began to mentally calculate the events of the mornings of the last few weeks. I had been feeling nauseous in the mornings but by the time afternoon arrived, I was feeling better so I dismissed it as something I'd ate the previous night. Then realization hit me and I slumped to the floor in shock. The peeling wall paper and the mildew stains spun around me. Looking down at my abdomen, I gingerly touched it, unable to fathom that something was growing inside of me, something so ill-timed and miraculous.

What I had hoped for came by a raven in the middle of the night. _You know when and where_, on a scrap piece of parchment with the elegant cursive that could only belong to him. The final straw, this is where it ends. I had let this gone on for too long and now the consequences began to cruelly reveal themselves. I resolved to remove him from my life permanently no matter how much it felt like I was amputating a limb off my heart. This war left no room for failure and I could not afford anything of that sort.

Outside, thunder roared once while the rain danced on the surface of the streets to create an orchestra of symphony. The wooden door to the abandoned building was jammed in the door frame on account of the moisture but it only took a few good pushes to open it, by then the rain had soaked me down to my undergarments. I was late but I knew he would be still waiting. I wandered the drafty corridors of the former glamorous inn of The Dragon's Den, feeling the dust of the walls on the tips of my outstretched fingers as it guided me to the room I wanted at the very top of the stairs. He stood by the cracked window dressed in his uniform of dark robes. His hair was tousled and there was a fresh scar on the back of his hand. I could only assume what he had done tonight.

The practiced words stood stinging on my tongue, poised and ready for their deliverance. However, I had waited too long and I lost my chance when his lips met mine. Harsh and brutal, he released his frustrations and fury into me, searching for vindication as if he could taste it. Biting down hard, I pushed him away from me before I could completely succumb and forever lose what I wanted to tell him. His lip was bleeding from where I had wounded him, I could taste the saltiness of it. Taking advantage of the silence, I took deep breaths to calm myself. Slowly, I lifted his unresisting hand to place on the slight bulge that that had began to grow at an alarming rate. His eyes clouded in confusion for a brief moment but then he understood what I wanted to tell him. He pulled back abruptly, disbelief showing through his usual mask of apathy before running his hands through his hair and pacing the small room. Finally, he turned to face the window to look up at the moonless sky, as if asking it for instruction. The silence was as thick as the tension while I waited him to say something—anything. Don't cry, I commanded myself. I could not show him how much power he held over me, how much weakness I had. He turned, his face unruffled and composed again, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. "How long?"

"A couple months," I murmured, unable to meet his demanding gaze.

"Ginevra," he said warningly.

"Perhaps more than a couple months, I've lost count." The lie slipped easily out of my mouth, I knew exactly how long it had been. He turned back to face the window again like he had nothing else to say to me. I ran to the exit, unable to bear the prospect of what his next answer would be but he slammed the door shut with his wand before I could leave. "I am not shackled to you, nor are you my keeper. Let me leave."

"Not with my child. Sit down," he commanded. I did as I was told, numbly. I had failed; he knew what I had so silently sworn to keep from him.

I tried to amend for my error as I concentrated on keeping my voice from shaking. "I think it would be best if we ended this. It's becoming too perilous and someone is bound to notice sooner or later."

"End this? Then why did you tell me about the child? I would have expected you to be begging for me to not leave you, not the opposite."

My face grew warm, he had guessed right but the dark of the room concealed the truth from showing. "So that you would have the knowledge before I got rid of it. I wouldn't owe you anything." I fed him another lie and watched as he paled. I wouldn't have the heart to kill a… baby. _My_ baby. His expression immediately became murderous, moving so fast that I could barely register what was happening, he grasped my shoulders tight enough to leave bruises and began shaking me.

"You will not kill my child," he hissed vehemently. I let out a cry from the pain and he instantly let go of me as if he was burned. "I won't let you do it."

"Then what do you propose I do? Give birth to a bastard child I can't explain? Or would you rather I pass it off as someone else's kid?" Traitorous tears were running down my face and I quickly wiped them away but they would not be staunched.

He had gone back to the damned window again leaving me to wallow in my own sniffles on the bed. "We could leave."

"Leave?"

He turned suddenly, a fierce determination blazing bright in his eyes. "Run away together. We could go somewhere where no one knows us." He strode over to me, "think about it. We don't have to fight for something neither of us believes in. It would a fresh start."

I was completely taken aback by him. This man who'd never said one word to indicate if he loved me more than lust permitted now wanted me to run off with him. "Run? Run away like cowards so that innocent people can be left to die?"

He looked away, whether from shame or impatience with my unwillingness, I didn't know. "I was meant to kill, not to save them. You, of all people, should know this."

"But there are other ways—" He silenced me with a finger on my lips.

"I refuse to join your side. They would never trust me and I am no hero."

"You would be mine, isn't that enough?"

He smiled weakly, "I've done unspeakable things that cannot be forgiven, Ginevra. I'm a monster and you deserve someone better than me." He wiped away the remnants of my tears. "I can only hope to save myself."

"You're leaving, regardless?" My voice cracked at the end and I had started to cry again.

"I will not force you to come. I cannot promise you everything you deserve nor can I promise you that we will live through tomorrow but I can promise you…" he trailed off before taking a deep breath and looked me in the eyes. "I can promise that I love you and our child." A great sob escaped from chest as I flung my arms around his neck, closing my eyes tight to preserve the moment forever. The three resonating words were even more beautiful than I had imagined. "I don't want to die tomorrow knowing that I'd never told you." His hands had slipped down to feel the bump between us, the miracle we had created.

"I love you too," I whispered back to him, feeling my heartbeat quicken. In that moment, I knew which one to pick, my last and final decision. I couldn't promise him that I will not wake up one morning years from now and regret the choice I'd made, but at present time, I knew I would die without him. "I want to be with you forever and always, no matter when and where."

He pulled back and smiled, a genuine action that was so foreign and beautiful to his face, it was like seeing the sun for the first time. He slipped his hand into mine and we disappeared from the room into the night with a _pop_, leaving no vestiges of our presence.

**A/N: Thought I was dead, didn't you? You know what to do, let me know what you think. I've been away from this for so long, I've gotten a little rusty. Also, please excuse any grammar mistakes you find. Feed me review cookies! It's been so long since I've gotten any. Thanks. **


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